Pour Liberte
by Travelling Philosopher
Summary: Ron and Hermione wake up one morning in their sixth year to find Harry missing - they are forced to travel through time to save him, meeting all sorts of interesting people along the way...
1. Missing?

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Pour Liberte

Chapter One __

By: Travelling Philosopher

Night of September 2, Sixth Year 

Fluorescent moonlight poured into the boys' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower through tall windows that, because of the warmth of the air, no one had bothered to shut. It illuminated the room as brightly as twenty lamps, but with a different, more mystic quality. Behind scarlet hangings, and untouched by the moonlight, all five boys slept soundly.

Utter stillness coated the entire castle, and not a single sound interrupted the peace of the night. Owls slept humbly on their perches in the Owlery, leaves in the Forbidden Forest ceased to shift on their branches; not a soul was awake or moving in Hogwarts. That is to say, almost.

In one four-poster bed, Harry Potter was fully awake. His brilliant green eyes were wide open, staring penetratingly into the blackness. Sheets were tangled around his legs and waist; he lay there silently, wondering if he should move, get up and check the time on his alarm clock on the floor near his bed, or do anything. But something stopped him, something he could not even begin to describe. It was immaterial, yet it surrounded him as surely as a blanket and held him in one place.

The minutes dragged by, and Harry tried to be calm. Something was happening. Without warning, his scar began to itch fiercely. There was no pain, only an agonizing, infuriating itch. In his mind, Harry cringed, but could not raise his hands to rub his forehead. Cold sweat ran down his neck; still, he could not move a muscle, not even to clench his hands. Fear trickled through him. _What is happening? I can't move! I can't speak! I CAN'T MOVE!_

The itching stopped. Utter silence surrounded Harry, threatening to strangle him. His vision went black, and his head swam through deep pools of darkness… 

The next thing Harry knew was happiness. Delirium swept over him and he was no longer aware of being at Hogwarts, of being anywhere at all. He floated in space amidst joy, laughter, and complete euphoria. Nothing mattered. Why would anything at all matter except staying here, in this wonderful place? Here, and only here, Harry Potter was finally free. And so he stayed.

Quite a few hours later...

Hermione Granger peered over at the clock on the wall of the girls' dormitories. Automatically calculating the number of minutes until morning classes would begin, she frowned and continued writing her essay on the mating habits of European Jobberknolls for Care of Magical Creatures. Her quill moved at a steady pace, swishing over the parchment rhythmically to create perfectly formed letters. 

Every other girl was still asleep, but not Hermione. On only the third day back at school, she quickly was getting back into the daily routine of waking three hours before her first class to do homework, work ahead on activities for the classes, or simply study. There was never a lack of something to do. The other girls in her year, of course, thought that this was extremely weird. Hermione couldn't see why; what was the harm in getting up a little early to review? She rarely saw any of them emerge from their beds until a half an hour before breakfast in the Great Hall, except when they got up (in pairs, always) to do their hair and makeup and talk about boys. Hermione hoped that they'd sleep in this morning. Constant giggling and twittering two feet away from her bed was really quite irritating. It nearly always forced her to move down to the common room where Harry and Ron would no doubt be blowing something up and making a lot of noise; The Weasley twins seemed to be sending them new tricks and explosives every other day.

She wondered about Harry. These last few days he'd been more solemn than she'd ever seen him. Throughout last year and summer vacation it became harder and harder to make him laugh, or even smile. He kept up in his studies, certainly, but he had certainly changed from that boy that she'd met on the train to school five years ago. At some points it was as though he had lost the will to live; at others, he appeared to absolutely love being at Hogwarts, and being with her and Ron. The one thing that ever remained the same was Quidditch. When Harry was flying, he was alive, and both she and Ron could see it on his face. But with Voldemort almost at full power, and Harry being who he was…

Hermione realized that her quill had stopped moving. Girls were starting to stumble out of bed; it was twenty minutes until their first class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. She sighed, and began to roll up her sheet of parchment. The essay was, after all, not due until next Monday, and she was nearly finished anyway. She stood up from her position on the floor, leaning against her bed, and stretched aching muscles. Quickly gathering up her books, some loose parchment, her quills, and bottles of ink, she stuffed the lot of it into her bookbag. Swinging it onto her shoulders, she looked herself over in the standing mirror next to the door: Uniform... perfect. Hat... on. Prefect badge... on. Satisfied, Hermione strode out the door, down the stairs, and out the portrait hole.

Two stops to talk with teachers, five ghosts, and three insane Hufflepuff first-years later, Hermione finally arrived in the Great Hall. She halted, surprised. The enchanted ceiling was so dark and stormy that it was hardly recognizable from nighttime. Hermione shrugged and, still a little unnerved, walked over to her usual seat at Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron was already there, looking somewhat confused, but Harry's seat was empty. 

"Hermione, you seen Harry?" Ron poked her with his fork.

"Not since yesterday," she said, eyeing a large, sharp serving fork on a platter in front of her, considering.

"You sure? Because I haven't seen him…" Ron trailed off.

Hermione frowned. She said nothing; Harry would likely turn up just in time for classes. Knowing him, he was getting in a little extra Quidditch practice out on the field, or looking up something in the library.

Her eyes wandered over the Hall, sometimes meeting the gaze of people she knew. She grabbed a muffin and chewed on it absently. She looked up at the Staff table, and her eyebrows shot up. Professor Dumbledore, who usually was cheerful, especially on the second day of school, looked positively furious. His face was stony, and his expression was darker than the blackness of the enchanted ceiling above. Other people had noticed as well, it seemed. Students around her were muttering and shooting nervous half-glances up at the Headmaster. Hermione shivered and looked away from the staff table.

Next to her, Ron was inquiring after Harry's whereabouts. The responses he got from the rest of the table confused them both. 

"Harry who?" Seamus Finnigan said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"What're you talking about?" Neville yawned.

Ron sighed. "Is he out on the Quidditch field or what? C'mon guys, just tell me! We have to be at class in ten minutes!"

"Who's Harry!" Seamus exclaimed, looking exasperated.

"His invisible friend," Dean Thomas snickered. 

"What?" Hermione said. "What are you all saying?"

"I think that would be _our_ question, Hermione." Seamus said calmly.

Ron turned to her and shrugged. "All I did was ask these morons if they knew where Harry was, but they have to act stupid…"

"_We're_ stupid?" Dean said. "You're the one spouting all this Harry - stuff!" 

"Yeah," Seamus nodded. "Why don't you tell us who Harry is?" He sounded extremely patient, as if he was speaking to a group of toddlers.

Ron grimaced and shoved an entire piece of toast in his mouth.

"Harry Potter." Said Hermione, raising her eyebrows at Ron. "We haven't seen him lately."

There was a long pause. The three boys gaped at them. After several minutes – 

"Well DUH you haven't seen him!" Seamus stared at them as if Ron had turned into a bug and Hermione was sprouting a green plant out the top of her head. 

Hermione frowned. "So… you know where he is?"

"Wait a minute," Dean said edgily, "We're talking about _the_ Harry Potter, right? The one who stopped You-Know-Who? That guy?"

Hermione nodded. Ron was frowning and chewing on four muffins at once.

"Ahh… oh dear," Neville said.

Dean scowled. "Either you two are the biggest idiots in the world, or you're just kidding around. Please say that it's the second one."

"What?" Hermione leaned forward. "What – are – you – talking – about?!"

Before they had a chance to answer, Hermione felt a hand press down on her shoulder. She looked up quickly and nearly jumped. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind her and Ron. His face was so grave that she wondered if someone had died. His voice was just as solemn when he spoke.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please step in to my office."

Her eyes widened. It was only the second day of school! What was going on? She nervously rose to her feet. Ron swallowed and copied her. 

Dumbledore gave them each a blue-eyed piercing look, then turned around and strode out of the Great Hall. Hermione met Ron's eyes and they set off, following him out into the corridors. The hallways seemed darker than usual. No one spoke a word. Looking over, she saw Ron muttering something inaudibly and shaking his head. 

Hermione sighed inwardly. Why were Seamus and Neville and Dean saying all that? Was it some kind of joke? She made a mental note to pry more information out of them later.

Dumbledore stopped in front of a stone gargoyle and said clearly, "Chocolate frogs."

Ron grinned weakly at her. Hermione watched curiously as the gargoyle sprang to life before them and jumped to the side to reveal a spiral staircase that was moving upwards of its own accord, similar to Muggle escalators. 

Dumbledore nodded and motioned for them to walk up. Hermione took a deep breath and stepped on to let the stairs carry her up. Ron immediately followed her, and Dumbledore entered last, allowing the gargoyle to hop back into position. The stairs lead them to a thick oak door, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Hermione knew she should feel scared, but her mind seemed strangely blank. The only emotion that she could define was a vague confusion. Ron obviously did not feel the same. When she looked back at him, his face had gone pale, and he appeared absolutely frightened.

Opening the door, Dumbledore ushered them inside. Hermione smiled. She'd been in the Headmaster's office only once before – when she'd been given the Time-Turner – and it was just as beautiful as she remembered. Whirring silver contraptions lined the shelves and pictures of old Headmasters and Headmistress's lined the walls. Most of them were sleeping in their frames but a few nodded and smiled kindly at her. Fawkes the Phoenix peered at her quizzically from his perch before taking off in a rush of feathers and landing with a soft thump on Dumbledore's shoulder.

Ron was looking around curiously. She realized that this was his first time in Dumbledore's office. He didn't look as afraid as he had; the circular room seemed to have a calming effect on people.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore. He said nothing, but continued to gently pet Fawkes and look down at them. Hermione met his gaze; he seemed to be considering them. The characteristic twinkle in his blue eyes was gone. Suddenly, she was scared. Something was going on that troubled the Headmaster greatly. She shivered, but stayed silent.

Ron peered over at her, and she looked back at him. They both turned and looked at Dumbledore, waiting for him to speak.

_____________________________________________________________

A/N: This is one of many things I've written, but one of the first that I've published on fanfiction.net. I hope to finish this in a err… reasonable amount of time… Please review, I like reviews… constructive criticism is eternally welcome; I know the ending isn't very flashy, but read chapter 2 before you flame. By the way, brownie points if you tell me what the title means ;) … okay, now that I've spent more than 10 hours straight on this computer, I think I'll go to bed! Chapter 3 will be up within the week if we're lucky, g'night!

****

~Travelling Philosopher**~**

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. The end.


	2. Charles Gray

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Pour Liberte

Chapter Two __

By: Travelling Philosopher

Finally Dumbledore spoke. "It is known that you, Miss Granger, and you, Mr. Weasley," he nodded to each of them in turn, "are good friends. Since your first year, I believe?"

Hermione and Ron nodded, both thinking the same thing: What on Earth was this leading to?

"Yes, well…" Dumbledore paused, then continued. "You two have another friend. One who is quite famous in many ways. Mr. Harry Potter – would I be correct, students, in assuming that you know personally a sixteen year old boy by that name?"

There was a short silence. Then Ron broke it.

"Yeah, we know Harry…!" he said.

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to darken. "So you remember…" he mumbled, almost too softly to be heard.

"Sir?" Hermione said.

Dumbledore looked at her.

"Well… er… this doesn't have anything to do with Harry being gone this morning, does it?"

Giving them a resigned look but not answering, Dumbledore strode over to a row of shelves. On the top shelf was a small black box. It was inconspicuous and virtually unnoticeable among so many little silver gadgets and assorted items of interest. As soon as he touched it, Fawkes leaped from his shoulder and flapped back over to his perch in the opposite corner.

Ron and Hermione watched Dumbledore grasp the black box and pull it down. With it, he walked slowly back to them and sat down behind his desk. The box he plunked down in front of him. Ignoring it, he motioned for them to sit down in the vacant chairs in front of his desk. They sat down obediently, and he peered at them from behind his golden half-moon glasses.

"Would you like to know why Mr. Harry Potter is missing today?"

They nodded.

"The simply truth is... that…" Dumbledore leaned back and took a breath. "Mr. Harry Potter, as we know him, does not exist."

Hermione gaped. She stared, dumbfounded, at Dumbledore. Her first and only thought was that the Headmaster had finally lost his mind. _He's cracked_, Hermione thought sadly, _He's off his rocker._

"You don't believe me." Dumbledore stated. He nodded.

"Uh, sir?" Ron finally spoke. 

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Uhh… I saw Harry yesterday. In class…?" Ron looked as though his thoughts were paralleling hers.

Dumbledore nodded again. He stood up and walked purposefully over to his fireplace, in which an orange fire roared. Searching in his robes for a few minutes, he pulled out a handful of glittering powder and threw it into he fire. Ron and Hermione watched apprehensively.

"Remus, come into my office please," Dumbledore addressed the fire.

Hermione's eyes widened. He couldn't mean – 

Remus Lupin stepped out of the fire nonchalantly, dusting off his robes. He looked around, spotted Hermione and Ron and waved with a little smile. "You called, Headmaster?"

"Professor!" Ron jumped up.

Hermione stood up next to him.

"Yes, good morning Mr. Weasley," Lupin smiled and turned back to Dumbledore with a slightly confused look.

Dumbledore was stoic. "Professor Lupin," he said quietly, "Would you please be so kind as to describe to us the first year that you arrived here? It was three years ago I believe…"

Lupin looked even more confused, but he obeyed. "Ah, well… it would depend on what you want to know of course. Let's see, I was offered the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I came, and have been teaching here for three years…" He paused. "I'm not entirely sure as to what it is you want to know, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, and said, "Describe in detail the events that happened on the train ride here in your first year teaching, Remus."

"Ahh…" Lupin looked bewildered. "I slept? What – "

"What about the dementors professor?!" Ron interrupted. "Remember? Dementors came onto the train and attacked our compartment! You gave Harry chocolate! They stopped the train!" He was on the brink of hysteria.

Lupin said gently, "I don't believe you're making yourself quite clear, Mr. Weasley."

"I'm being perfectly clear!" Ron yelled.

Hermione cut in. "Professor, you must remember – in the Whomping Willow? We caught Peter Pettigrew, and rescued Sirius Black, he's innocent, and we found out you're a werewolf – " She stopped at the expression on Lupin's face.

"What do Peter and Black have to do with anything?" he asked Dumbledore, "And _what_ have you been telling them?! How do they know – how do they know I'm a…" he trailed off, looking surprised and confused.

"All will be explained in due time, Remus," Dumbledore said consolingly. "For now, please return to your classes."

And it was final. Lupin, still looking baffled, stepped back into the fire and was gone.

"W-what's wrong with him?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing is wrong with him." Dumbledore stated. "He knows you two simply as students in his class. The events that you remember from your third year never happened; Professor Snape never told the student body that he was a werewolf, and he teaches here still."

"WHAT!" Ron threw his hands up in the air. "You're bloody insane, all of you!"

"Sit down." Dumbledore said firmly, taking a seat behind his desk.

They did. Hermione, though shocked at Ron's behavior, privately agreed with him. Nothing that Dumbledore had said so far had made any sense, and the presence of Lupin was still unexplained.

Dumbledore sighed. "I will explain all of this. But I must beg you not to interrupt, as I am sure it will sound very strange and unbelievable to you. It is the truth, however."

Hermione nodded. Ron just scowled and slid deeper into his chair.

"Some fifty-odd years ago, when I taught Transfiguration at this school, there was another professor who taught Charms. Not Professor Flitwick – this man's name was Charles Gray. We were good friends and partners in studying magic; I trusted the man, although most of the staff thought he was somewhat mad. 

"In the years I knew him, Charles was obsessed with time travel. It occupied his thoughts day and night; we would spend hours together, talking about the philosophy of it. At the time, you see, the concept of travelling in time was toyed about among many wizards, but none had succeeded doing it. Charles was convinced that he could. He'd go through his classes every day routinely, and then rush off to his office to experiment his ideas, to read, and to dream about creating an object that would send people through time. He'd spend entire nights down there, creating new spells, and digging up ancient ones…

"Finally, he succeeded. I remember the night well – it was during the Halloween feast, and Charles comes running into the Hall like a madman, yelling that he did it. 'I've done it at last! I've done it!' Well, of course, most of the staff thought he had finally cracked. But he _had_ done it." 

Dumbledore's eyes returned to the present. He studied them quickly; Pressing his hand into the top of the box, he muttered something that Hermione couldn't hear. It opened with a click. She leaned forward, interested. From the box, Dumbledore gently removed a golden pocketwatch. Hermione gasped. It was _beautiful_. The edges were intricately laced with gold and specks of silver; tiny rubies dotted it like raindrops. Twelve silver hands shone and pointed to little planets moving around the edge. Looking closer, Hermione could almost see each planet swirl and shine of its own light. A gold cord made it into a necklace; the whole thing looked ancient.

"This," Dumbledore held it gently, "Is a _Pour Liberte_. Charles Gray created it in the year 1943. It will take the wearer to any point in time twelve years before or after their original starting point, and no further. This, along with the Time-Turner that you have used Miss Granger, was his life's work. There are only two in existence. This is one, and the other one…" he shook his head.

"The other one?" Ron prompted.

"The other one was in the ownership of Mr. Gray when he was killed by Lord Voldemort ten years ago. When he died, his possessions were put into his Gringotts vault and left there, along with the other _Pour Liberte_. I had assumed that it was safe, but last night…"

"What happened?" Ron said.

"First let me explain something to you," Dumbledore lay the watch cautiously down into the box again. "Charlie and I, as I said, were friends and partners. When he created the _Pour Liberte_, he knew the dangers of it. He knew very well what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands. We worked together for many years, setting enough enchantments and spells on it to stop the most formidable of foes. Whenever time is altered, even in the tiniest way, two other people will remember things as they were before time was changed. Sometimes these two people are at random, but most often they are not random at all – " He glanced at them, "In that way, accidents were lessened, and when they did happen, there would be two backups who could fix things.

"Ron, Hermione, I will tell you what I know. I know that Lord Voldemort has somehow gotten hold of the other _Pour Liberte_, and I know that time has been changed – _drastically_."

"But…" Hermione frowned.

"Yes Miss Granger?"

"If time has been altered, as you are saying, and if Ron and I are the only two who remember, as you are implying, then why do you remember, sir? Why are you telling us this?"

"Ah, well spotted." Dumbledore smiled. "That is an interesting story all by itself. To be brief, however, I shall say this. About a year before Charlie died, he gave me a most unusual gift. It was an enchantment. You see, I will never be affected by anything that happens as a result of that time-watch. I will simply keep on living, remembering two times, both the original and the altered. It is impossible to kill me when you are not in your own time. Convenient, eh?"

Hermione nodded fervently.

Dumbledore smiled ruefully, "Ah, but there is one drawback, and only one. I can never use the _Pour Liberte_, either one, myself. It seems like such a small price to pay, doesn't it? Yes, that's what I thought. After all, what incentive would I have to travel in time?" He sighed.

"What is this coming to?" Ron slouched even deeper into his chair, "Just what exactly has been changed?"

The Headmaster hesitated, then pulled a heavy leather-bound book over from where it was resting, open, on the edge of his desk. Silently, he slid it across the desk to them.

Hermione glanced over at Ron, who looked just as confused as she felt. They both leaned forward and found what Dumbledore wanted them to read; it was circled in black ink:

__

……

Harry Potter was from that day forth called "The Boy Who Lived" by the mainstream of witches and wizards. Although his name was known well around the globe, little Harry Potter (who was then just one year old) was sent to live with Muggle relatives. His aunt and uncle were his only living relations, but the reasons behind his living with Muggles are to his day unknown. It might have worked out, but for the night of July 16th. 

Baby Harry was no longer a baby, but four years old. Still living with in the Muggle world, and not yet of age to attend wizarding school, which would presumably be Hogwarts. What happened that day of July 16th is still ranked second in the Warlock's Foundation's Top Ten Most Mysterious Unsolved Mysteries. All that is known to the magical world today is that Harry Potter, the boy who survived the deadliest of the three Unforgivable Curses, the Boy who Lived, was gone. He disappeared without a trace.

This is one of the most famous, if not the most interesting, mysteries of all time. The Muggles, of course, were questioned extensively, as was every resident of the street where he was seen last. All that could be obtained, however was the following: On that day, the Muggle relatives left the house for the afternoon, dropping little Harry off at a neighbor's house. This neighbor, incidentally, was Mrs. Arabella Figg, a very distinguished witch and ex-Auror. It is unknown whether the Muggles were aware of the fact that she was a witch. Around 2:30 p.m., Mrs. Figg left the house to visit the local Muggle grocery store for some cat food. When she returned, Harry Potter was missing.

"I never would've left him if I'd known," she sobbed to the reporters after calling Magical Law Enforcement immediately. She was nearly hysterical. "I searched and searched… You witless boys better find him! I mean it!" She then proceeded to hex everyone in sight, putting some extremely interesting curses on a few men that will remain unnamed. As it turned out, it took almost an hour to calm the woman down; when they managed it, on the other hand, the former Auror provided invaluable help to the teams. After Mrs. Figg's awful telephone call that report Harry's disappearance, the entire area for miles around was, within minutes, swarming with everyone from Ministry officials to Unspeakables.

Unfortunately, the boy who defeated You-Know-Who was never found. The search continued for almost five years, spreading over every continent on the Earth and making huge headlines on the front page of every newspaper in Europe. Now, nearly 8 years after the assumed death of young Harry Potter, the publicity surrounding his disappearance has died down, and search parties have long since been called off. Still, any person with information of the whereabouts of Harry Potter is advised to contact the Ministry of Magic immediately.

……

Hermione was silent for a long time. Her mind raced. How could this be happening? What… what… Her thoughts wouldn't make sense. She simply stared at the page, reading it over and over again. Nothing was clear. How could Harry have disappeared eight years ago? She saw him yesterday! 

"This book was published four years ago," Dumbledore gave them a piercing look. "Which means that Harry disappeared _precisely 11 ½ years ago_."

Hermione could only nod dumbly. 

"You see?" said Dumbledore, "If Professor Lupin had seen Harry today, he probably would've thought it was James. Nothing that you remember that was caused by Harry _ever happened_."

"I saw him yesterday," Ron croaked. "He slept in the bed next to me… He was so glad to be back to Hogwarts… I saw him yesterday!"

"Exactly." Dumbledore said. "That is why I think – I know – that Lord Voldemort obtained one of the two _Pour Liberte_, traveled back in time, and killed Harry. Or kidnapped him," he added thoughtfully.

"And… we're the two who remember things as they should be?" Hermione said.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. 

"And what are we supposed to do about it?" Ron growled, "He'll just stay like that, missing, forever – "

"Ah, Ron, but you _can _do something about it. You and Miss Granger. That is where this," he rested a hand on the black box still sitting in front of them, "comes in."

"The other _Pour Liberte _thing…" Hermione muttered.

"Yes."

"Wait just one minute!" Ron leapt to his feet in a sudden burst of understanding. "You can't mean – that is… You must be out of your mind!"

"On the contrary, I am completely within my mind, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said calmly.

"No way! You cannot be trying to say that you want to send us – _us _– back in time to change it!?" Ron yelled.

Dumbledore sighed. "My dear boy, please try to understand the situation. Where we stand, Harry Potter is most likely dead, and Voldemort is again rising to power. The wizarding world is in chaos. The Dark Lord is again gaining control, having defeated his greatest enemy – a four-year-old boy. And it worked perfectly. Not a single person capable of saving Harry would believe me if I told them what happened last night. You must realize – this world, where Harry Potter died 12 years ago, this _is _their world. You two are the only ones I have. I only wish I could send myself."

Ron stared at him. After a moment, he sat down and put his head in his hands, moaning.

Herself, Hermione felt like crying. Poor Harry, he had no chance to fight, he was just gone. The strangest thing about it was that she remembered very clearly seeing him just last night. They'd gone to the feast, the three of them, and walked back to Gryffindor Tower, positively stuffed. She'd decided to go to bed early and left the common room to her last sight of Harry – they waved and Harry had said 'G'night Hermione'. Just like that. And he was gone. Hermione strengthened her resolve.

"We have to, Ron." she said softly. "There is no decision – we're going."

Ron stared at her for a moment and slowly nodded.

A/N: J.K. Rowling is married! I know that millions of fans worldwide will join me in wishing her and her husband a long and prosperous time together! CONGRATULATIONS! *is in tears* Ah, this is so cool! Who thinks this is cause for a party? I think so! Okay, anyways… um, chapter three'll be up sometime soon… I'm starting to like this story, how bout you? Have a day,

~**Travelling Philosopher**~

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, JKR rules the world… *bows deeply* 


	3. "Tempus Mien"

_Pour Liberte_

Chapter Three 

_By: Travelling Philosopher_

Hermione sighed, thinking about what she'd just said. _We'll go_. 

Dumbledore said, "When would you like to leave?"

She gave a start. It was all well and good _deciding _to go rescue your best friend… Actually doing it was another matter entirely.

"Uh… How long can we think about it…?" Ron said.

"As long as you like. After all, if you are successful, then this conversation would never have taken place." 

"Wouldn't that create a paradox?" Hermione said. "I mean, if we save him, then right now never would've happened, meaning that we never would've gone back to save him…"

Dumbledore shrugged. "I'm afraid that it is a question for which I have no answer."

Ron frowned. "So, uh, technically we can just wait until we grow up, and then save him?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said gravely. "I remind you, the time limit is twelve years."

Hermione said, "Right, but he only disappeared 11 ½ years ago. So we can go back up to six months before it happened." She thought it should have been obvious.

Ron was silent. There was a pause…

"We'll go today. This afternoon." Hermione said decisively.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore smiled. He opened a drawer on the side of his desk and pulled out a keyring, on which was attached a small chain. On the end of the chain was a miniscule bag, small enough for a doll.

Ron and Hermione stared. Dumbledore set the keychain bag on the desk in front of them.

"This bag holds everything that you could possibly need for the journey." Dumbledore patted it. "Let's see, it contains, ah… 600 Galleons, 3000 pounds in Muggle currency, complete Muggle identification, two Firebolts – those will be handy but keep them secret, they won't have been invented yet – gift certificates to several Muggle clothing stores in which I believe you will find the styles quite amusing… and a two letters from myself. Here," He pulled the sheets of parchment from the bag and handed one to each of them. They were identical:

_The bearer of this note works on my behalf and under my direction. Show him the same courtesies that you would me._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Hermione nodded. She was suddenly feeling very businesslike. 

"What are we supposed to do?" Ron said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore said amiably.

"Well, ah…" he looked frustrated, "All we know is that he disappeared in a time slot of a few minutes. How are we supposed to save him if You-Know-Who shows up? And even if we do, won't he just keep trying until he finally gets Harry?"

Dumbledore frowned. "That is a question that I only wish I had the answer to. I think your best chances – " he grabbed a quill, took Ron's letter, flipped it over, and began scribbling something down – "lies in contacting this person. He will still have been staying there at the time, unless my memory has failed me." He slid the paper back across the desk to Ron. Hermione leaned over to read it:

_14 Willow Blvd,_

_off of Hogsmeade, Scotland_

"Who – ?" said Hermione.

"I daresay you'll recognize him," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind gold-rimmed glasses. "After you have done that, I think you may find it useful to come to Hogwarts and speak to me."

"What?" Ron stared at him.

"I will be most surprised to see you of course, but it will turn out all right." He smiled.

"But – " Hermione's eyes lit up as she came to a sudden realization. "You can see everything that happens, right? So you already know what's going to happen!"

"Yeah!" Ron said.

"Not exactly, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. He tapped the tips of his fingers together and peered at them over the top of his hands. "I know that if you do succeed, things will be exactly as they were before. But so many things could occur… the pattern of time is like breaking of glass. One crack spreads into two, and two into five, until there are thousands and thousands of unique lines that you could follow. It is very hazy. But remember this – " he looked them both in the eye. "You _can_ succeed. Whatever may happen, know that it is not impossible."

Hermione said nothing. She didn't know what they were getting themselves into, but it was sure to be hard. If she didn't go, however, Hermione knew that she would never be able to forgive herself. _And Harry would remain dead or lost or whatever he is._

"Now." She said. "I'm ready to go now." She took a deep breath and looked over at Ron. His face was pale, and he appeared to be steeling himself. He nodded.

Dumbledore sighed and again opened the small black box. He pulled out the golden pocket watch – _what was it called,_ Hermione thought, _the Pour Liberty?_ – and handed it to Ron. 

"Put it around your necks," he instructed. Ron slipped on and then motioned to her. Hermione scooted her chair closer to his so that they were facing each other, and then pulled the rather lengthy chain over her own head as well. On the end of the chain, the intricate watch lay in Ron's hand, ticking away mockingly. Ron handled it as though it might shatter in a moment's notice.

"Be thinking of the year you want to go to," Dumbledore said, "and repeat after me: tempus mien."

"Tempus mien," Hermione said clearly.

Ron, scooping up the keychain-bag and his sheet of parchment, said, "Tempus mien."

"Again. Keep repeating it," Dumbledore said.

"Tempus mien, tempus mien, tempus mien," Hermione said, concentrating hard.

Almost immediately, the room began to spin. Colors blurred together to form blackness. She was no longer aware of anything except for the presence of Ron, to her left, and the _Pour Liberte_,suspended somewherein front of her. Everything was spinning; the whole world was spinning. She felt herself being tugged backwards all at once. The passage of time rushed by her ears, but it was more of a feeling than a sight or sound. 

Then her mind went blank.

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A/N:  This one was a bit shorter, I know. Next chapter will be up soon, and it will be in Ron's POV (Yay! I love Ron!) Until then, I leave you to wonder… where will they wake up? Who will they meet there? What will happen??

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own anything in this story but the plot… yadayadayada…

Review!!


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